


Then Lestrade Walked In...

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, BDSM, F/F, F/M, Kinky, M/M, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP - Basically, this is a running gag. After a few stories on AO3 a reader pointed out that Lestrade walking in on a sex act was a pretty funny schtick and that I should write them all in his POV and put them in one place... I hadn't noticed. Apparently I have some unconscious voyeurism kink or something. Anywhore... here they are!</p><p>WARNINGS: If you have a squick, don't read these. They cross boundaries. Lots of them. There's even feels in one. I've lost track of all the sick shit that goes on in here. Links to multiple stories, so spoiler warnings will be noted before each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
 

Contains Spoilers for [Give and Take Ch 8](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/73887.html)

 

They were apparently in Sherlock’s dungeon, not his lab, and Lestrade was stunned to the point his mind completely blanked and focused on the absolutely beautiful scene before him. John was suspended from the walls and ceiling of the low basement flat, his arms stretched out like wings and his legs bent at the knees and tied so his feet practically cupped his arse. He was leaning slightly backwards on suspended from a weaving of silk ropes crisscrossing the room and attached to the walls, floor, and ceiling at a gentle backward tilting angle, secured there by bolts in the cement. His eyes were opening and closing lazily, glazed with pleasure, and his body was covered in a shimmering sheen of sweat. Or what you could _see_ of his body was covered in sweat, because most of his arms, torso, and thighs were covered in an explosion of colored wax, dripped in layers and flung in splashes across his body. Rivulets of dried wax ran down his arms and hung there like stalactites… or the remains of ruined colorful wings.

He looked for the entire world like a wounded butterfly captured in a spider’s web.

“How long has he been like that?”

“Oh, nearly a day. I’ve been making sure his circulation isn’t cut off and releasing his legs every now and again, so you don’t need to worry. The baby is out with Mrs. Hudson for the day, she’s running errands and the like. We needed some time to reconnect; apparently I’ve been unbearable since our heat. Nesting, you know.”

“Yeah, right, yeah, that’s fucking beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it? It’s turned out rather well all things considered,” Sherlock stated, standing back to admire his handiwork.

John growled faintly, more of a reminder for the pack Alpha not to pouch on his Omega than a threat of action. Then his eyes closed and his head sagged back onto the supportive rope behind him as Sherlock took a now re-lit candle and dripped more wax down his shoulder. The entire frame shuddered and bounced at his movement, some of the wax ‘wings’ breaking off and falling to the floor where Lestrade could see other leavings.

“I… god, I hate to interrupt this… but there’s kind of the threat to your brother’s safety?” Lestrade whispered, his mouth dry and his cock trying to show a traitorous interest.

“There’s a substantial one to John’s as well. You recall he falls into subdrop rather easily due to his deviancy? I’ll have to bring him down gently. His Alpha nature won’t let us go without finishing with a sex act, either, he’ll not let me go unsatisfied without hitting subdrop.”

“Shit, right. I’ll just… wait upstairs?”

“That would be best.”


	2. Chapter 2

Spoilers for [Perfect Match Fic Ch 30](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/65384.html)

 

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea, My,” Lestrade sighed as he rang the buzzer for 221B Baker Street a second time, “They’re a young married couple now, we should probably have called first.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I do this all the time. Most days I just let myself in rather than lean uselessly on a buzzer that Sherlock probably shot again recently,” Mycroft admonished.

Lestrade sighed, his Sub was a rather pushy fellow, but he did love the stubborn man and wouldn’t change a thing about him; though he was sorely tempted to put him over his knee at times like this.

Finally Mycroft just elbowed Lestrade aside and let himself in, Rupert balanced on one hip. Lestrade followed at a more sedate pace, surprised at how quiet the hall was. Mycroft was using his key – probably stolen rather than given – on 221B’s main door when Lestrade caught up with him. He pushed it open and then threw a hand over Rupert’s eyes and hurried back out with a look of disgust on his face. Unable to resist, Lestrade leaned forward and peered in at the scene before him.

John was upside down on the couch, his feet braced against the wall and legs slightly spread. He was humming and moaning around Sherlock’s cock, which the man was forcefully thrusting down his throat. It looked painful, but John’s leaking cock argued his case for him.

“Oh my fucking god!” Sherlock shouted, giving a few deep thrusts before pulling out till only the tip remained so John could breath.

John moaned enthusiastically, grabbed Sherlock’s arse and tugged him back in again, but quickly abandoned his attempts to control the thrusts in favor of fingering Sherlock’s dripping entrance. Sherlock gripped John’s cock with one hand and fisted it almost frantically.

“Oh, fuck, John!” Sherlock cried out, and Lestrade could tell by his quaking legs and rhythm-less half-thrusts that Sherlock was coming in John’s greedy mouth. John must have done something brilliant with his tongue because Sherlock gasped and swore again.

“Mmmmmm,” John agreed, tugging Sherlock down his throat again.

Lestrade was rock hard and unable to move, barely able to breathe. As an Alpha he’d never been deep throated, it simply wasn’t possible, though he’d done it to Mycroft on more than one occasion. John was clearly both adept at it and loving it, and Lestrade was wickedly jealous of Sherlock in that moment.

Sherlock pressed his cock all the way down John’s throat and abandoned his attempts to hold himself up in favor of fondling his cock with both hands; one stroked the shaft and rotated the palm over the head of John’s cock while the other squeezed his knot and rubbed his thumb across his tight balls. Lestrade almost stepped forward, fearing for John since he was gagging and clearly couldn’t breathe, but the man stopped gagging and started _swallowing_ – Lestrade bit his fist as he watched the Alpha Sub’s Adam’s Apple bob up and down with his efforts. Then John came, and there must have been a pint of it that sprayed across Sherlock’s chest, painting the pale man in white. Sherlock pulled away from John and collapsed onto the couch, his eyes momentarily meeting Lestrade’s before he simply let his head fall back in exhaustion. John was worse off and toppled sideways off the couch. He lay there groaning and panting a moment, giving his head an occasional shake, before he scrambled unsteadily up to his knees and crawled over to Sherlock.

Lestrade got a momentary view of John’s winking hole and tight bollocks before the man wriggled between Sherlock’s legs and started _licking his own come off his chest._ Lestrade gave his aching prick a firm squeeze and tried _very_ hard to leave, but Sherlock took that moment to speak.

“Jooooohn,” Sherlock groaned, head thrown back and writhing a bit, “Tell me you’re still hard.”

“Like a fucking rock.”

“In. Now.” Sherlock weakly spread his legs, and John grabbed his thighs and lifted him so he could thrust in at one go.

Shelrock swore inventively and John thrust fast and hard into the man, his long Alpha cock, larger even than Lestrade’s impressive prick, moving out till only the tip remained before thrusting in once more, but never quite deep enough. Lestrade didn’t know why he didn’t just _knot_ him already- and very nearly yelled at him to- but John must have had a method because Sherlock was soon screaming in bliss, his abdomen clenching and unclenching and Lestrade could just _imagine_ how that felt before John buried his knot inside him and they both moaned breathily as John brought them both through another mind-blowing orgasm.

John rested his forehead on Sherlock’s shoulders for a moment then grabbed some pillows.

 _He can’t possibly be planning on continuing!_ Lestrade thought in shock, _I really, really should leave._

John, apparently, planned on finishing the meal he’d started earlier and was licking up more ejaculate.

The two had a whispered conversation in which Sherlock looked a bit scandalized and John had an evil little smirk on his face that Lestrade had never imagined gracing the cuddly jumper-wearing Sub; then John pulled Sherlock’s back into a higher arch, grabbed a nipple, and started fucking _nursing_.

That was it for Lestrade, who thought he might come in his trousers practically untouched for the first time in his life if he stayed any longer. He fled down the stairs, his cock rubbing agonizingly against his zipper, and found Mycroft talking to Mrs. Hudson.

“She’s going to watch Rupert for a moment,” Mycroft said, giving Lestrade a look that was both disgusted and amused, “I’m not in the least bit interested in knowing what you saw all that time you were up there, but since I have a key to Sherlock’s dungeon we might as well impose on them a bit more.

“Good. Fantastic. Let’s go,” Lestrade grabbed Mycroft’s arm and dragged him downstairs to ravage his laughing Omega.

_I’m never going to be able to look them in the eyes again._


	3. Chapter 3

Spoilers for [Perfect Match – Chapter 40/41](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/68320.html)

Lestrade shone his torch down the third alley on Hampston High Street in the hopes he’d locate his wayward pack members. John had his pants around his ankles and a half-naked and unconcious Sherlock wrapped around him like as sloth. He hurried out, but still approached cautiously. He wasn’t sure if John was armed or not – likely he was.

“ **John. I am your pack Alpha. You will let me take you and your Omega to safety.** ”

Lestrade’s Dom voice did the trick and John whimpered and exposed his throat. He headed over and suckled his neck gently, but it gave him a faceful of Omega sex hormones.

_I should have worn a mask, but I’d have had to stop somewhere to pick one up… fuck, this is going to be a rough car ride home._

Lestrade started by helping John the rest of the way out of his trousers. Then he gently supported Sherlock from one end while they awkwardly walked him towards the car. Once he had the poor man settled into the seat John was able to shift back and relax against it. Lestrade just fucking _knew_ they were up to no good so he headed back into the alley and collected everything that looked like evidence; John’s mobile and both their clothes, a piece of silk cloth that turned out to be a mask, a gun that didn’t look like John’s.

_Oh, they were up to no good alright._

Lestrade slipped into the car, shut the door, and told the housekeeper turned driver to take them home. The poor woman was half asleep but faring well. He needed a Beta along in case things went south… which they quickly were as the car filled up with heat scent and Lestrade’s trousers filled up with a quickly firming cock. Lestrade turned on the vents and switched it to outside air, but there was no helping it. He tried to focus on getting water into John and Sherlock’s bodies, but the smell was reaching a peak as Sherlock entered the next wave.

“Fuck, Sherlock smells so good, John. So fucking _good_. No wonder pack Alphas end up mounting their Omegas. Fucking _hell_. I… I don’t know if I can control myself… _fuck._ ”

As he watched, completely unable to turn away, Sherlock whimpered and squirmed, his body begging for more and more sex despite the fact he was out cold. John’s eyes rolled a bit and then he groaned, spread his legs, and began to roll his hips into Sherlock’s body, reaching deep inside him as the Omega’s legs were spread farther by his own.

 _I have to try that position with My_ , Lestrade thought.

Lestrade didn’t _remember_ climbing between John’s legs and kissing up and down Sherlock’s back, but he did remember the moment John pulled Sherlock away. While Alphas usually didn’t reject their pack Alpha’s babies if their Omegas bore them, it didn’t mean it was impossible. John was determined Sherlock get _his_ seed; Lestrade felt an odd sort of approval in that action and it gave Lestrade a new purpose.

Instead of trying to get to Sherlock, Lestrade pushed John’s legs further apart and settled behind his full round buttocks. Lestrade parted those cheeks and smirked at the furled hole that stared back at him. A quick swipe and then he was prodding him with his tongue, miming what John was doing with Sherlock. Once he was sure the Alpha was wet enough he pulled away and slipped a finger inside of him before biting a cheek hard. The pain did it for John and he jerked as he came, triggering Sherlock’s orgasm as well. They both sounded shocked by it and it aroused Lestrade more.

“That’s it, John, breed him,” Lestrade growled from behind John and sank his teeth into the opposite cheek, “Fill him up!”

Lestrade pulled back and slapped John’s arse. He wasn’t expecting the wild growl he got in response, or the renewed hip action. John was gone. His mind completely feral as he fucked his Omega into next Tuesday. Lestrade’s mind was hazy as well, as his actions showed, but he was still (mostly) aware of his surroundings. He wanted to give them both more. To pleasure them until they slept in blissful satisfaction.

Lestarde started by locating John’s prostate and listening to the man howl in bliss as he came again and again. He fondled Sherlock’s bollocks and thumbed his perenium, listening to the Omega sigh and moan. Finally the two collapsed in exaustion again, and while Sherlock slept Lestrade slipped John a bar of food. He devoured it without loosening his grip on Sherlock, so Lestrade had to feed him the survival bar. Once they were both watered and John fed, Lestrade reached down to his own neglected cock.

They had arrived in the carport by now, but the Beta took one look inside and fled to get Mycroft. Lestrade was unconcerned. He was stroking his aching prick and squeezing his knot. He was going to come all over John and the smell would drive Sherlock crazy. The Omega would drop an egg, John would mount him again, and they’d have more cubs in his pack; more for Lestrade to love, more for his beautiful but barren Omega to love, more for his _pack_ to love. Lestrade didn’t have to breed the Omegas himself, but he sure as hell could help it along with a bit of scent-ual motivation.

 Mycroft opened the car door, giving Lestrade an alarmed look. He growled a warning for his Sub not to interfere and he shut the door again. Lestrade freed a hand to finger John’s arsehole again, enjoying the sight if it disappearing inside the Alpha Sub. John moaned, but was otherwise unconcerned by his presence. Lestrade slipped his hand free again and gave himself a firmer grip as he stroked the foreskin over the bulbous head of his huge Alpha prick. One more squeeze to his knot and he was spilling himself over John’s arse.

It had the desired effect. Sherlock immediately hit the next wave, writhing and keening beneath John who fucked him with renewed enthusiasm, re-knotting him after only a few head-wobbling thrusts. John gripped the side of the door over Sherlock’s head and roared out his orgasm. Sherlock followed a few gyrations later with a deep-throated groan and promptly scratched his fingers through Lestrade’s spunk on John’s arse, leaving red marks behind. John came again, his voice cracking as he screamed in pleasure and Sherlock went limp beneath him once more. Lestrade frowned, wanting a bit _more_ than that, but he needn’t have been concerned. John was still going strong and Sherlock’s body had no choice but to react. Sherlock arched his back as he came again, his cries echoing in the darkened carport.

Both men went limp again and Sherlock’s scent changed from Omega-in-heat to Omega-in-estrus. Sherlock would drop an egg soon, go on a _real_ Heat, and provide them all with beautiful cubs. Lestrade moved closer to his gorgeous pack members, licking up some of his spunk as a courtesy to John and pressing kisses to his shoulder blades. He stretched across his lovely Alpha Sub and stroked his Omega’s hair before settling in to sleep with most of his weight purposely on his knees. Couldn’t crush the mother-to-be, now could he?


	4. Chapter 4

Spoilers for [Perfect Match Fic Ch 42](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/68644.html)

 

Lestrade finished directing Mycrofts minions in the unloading of the van full of baby things and surveyed the mess that was the bedroom beside the one heretofore noted as ‘John’s guestroom’. It would now be John and Sherlock’s room and Lestrade was happy Mycroft had insisted on giving them the one with an ensuite despite the fact it was on the opposite side of the manor. He’d been worried about leaving John so far away, but Mycroft must have anticipated Sherlock’s sudden switch to domesticity. To think the battling brothers would share a house! True, they’d be in two different wings, and likely working different hours, but that only made it easier for Mycroft to meddle in Sherlock’s affairs. Of course, perhaps that was what Sherlock wanted; a sort of pulling in of resources after finding himself so glaringly open to betrayal.

Mycroft was already meddling to some degree: he was decorating the boy’s nursery. Aiden and BG would have this room and the one across the hall would be cleaned out in case Sherlock had a girl next. Apparently John was hoping for one, but Sherlock was hoping for _twins_ like some daft fool. Lestrade remembered the long parade of sleepless nights and wouldn’t wish a second baby on anyone, despite the whole ‘double the joy’ situation. He did, however, want to see a girl in the house. They were decidedly short on pink.

Mycroft was unresponsive when Lestrade tried conversation so he informed the man he’d head over to make sure John and Sherlock had food in their place.

“You know how Sherlock never shops. If it hadn’t been for me going over there in the middle of the week he and the boys would have starved.”

“Mrs. Hudson looks after them.”

“She’s focused on the kids now, but yeah, I know. I just want to make sure. Heat and all, you know.”

Mycroft gave Lestrade one of his looks that said he was reading into him ridiculously deep and Lestrade shifted uncomfortably.

“Have fun,” Mycroft chuckled and turned back to ordering his flunkies to move BG’s bed to a different corner.

Lestrade frowned at the comment but headed out without commenting. Mycroft could easily put the three kids to bed without him, besides he wouldn’t be gone.

XXX

Lestrade rang the bell but no one answered so he let himself in. He had barely opened the landing door when he heard a bloodcurdling scream from upstairs. Running on instinct, he abandoned the front door, bolted upstairs and tried the knob. The screaming had stopped but he thought he heard sobbing. Worried that this was a hostage situation he unlocked the door as quietly as he could before slowly pushing it open. Sherlock was seated in John’s usually chair, but it was facing the kitchen. He was smirking and smoking a vapor cigarette – his latest substitute for patches when he wanted to look cool – and stroking his long fingers over a black box in his hand.

Feeling a mixture of excitement and dread, Lestrade stepped into the room and glanced around. He didn’t see John and the room was now utterly silent. He was about to ask about what he’d heard when he caught a grunt and turned towards the kitchen to see John on the floor on hands and knees. He was panting, his head turned slightly towards Lestrade, but his eyes were unseeing as he floated in subspace. His arse faced towards the fireplace and he was clutching at a yellow apron that had come undone from his waist and was liberally soaked in his come, as was the floor beneath him. Black wires lead from some odd device in his arse to the box in Sherlock’s lap.

Lestrade had absolutely no idea what was going on, but Sherlock pointed to the label on the box and he caught on fast. So _this_ was electric stimulation! He’d never seen it done before, but from the sounds John made it was awful.

“What did he do to deserve _this_?” Lestrade whispered, horrified and wondering if he should interfere.

“Reward,” Sherlock mouthed, then indicated Lestrade should move out of John’s line of sight.

John was steadily increasing the desperate sounds he was making, and had started jerkily humping the air again.

“You’re beautiful like this, John,” Sherlock stated in his smooth baritone, “Lost in pleasure and subspace, and only I can give this to you. Tell me, did Lestrade ever bring you off? Put you in subspace?”

Lestrade felt his stomach clench in horror, but John replied to the negative, squirming a bit as the questioning pulled him out of his headspace.

“Good, so good. I wouldn’t have blamed you with the situation you were in, my love, but I’m comforted to know only _I_ own your pleasure.”

Lestrade wasn’t dumb enough – or aroused enough – to miss the narrow eyed look on Sherlock’s face. He nodded firmly at the boundary he’d set and Sherlock smiled contentedly down at his Sub.

“Pleeease,” John begged.

“Ah, yes, that’s right. I’m rewarding you, aren’t I? So sorry. Here you go.”

Sherlock hit the buttons on the box in his lap and drew a drag from his v-cig as John screamed and came… _twice_. Lestrade watched in amazement, at the angle he had he could see John’s clenching hole, tight bollocks, and pulsing cock all in one sweeping glance. If he leaned to one side he could even see John’s knot between his thighs, the purpled tissue throbbing as it propelled his ejaculate out in hard jets. The puddle on the floor was thick and speading by now, and Lestrade wondered how many times the lucky bastard had come like this. Lestrade’s jaw was dropped and he was drooling on himself by the time John’s voice cut out from his cries and the man toppled sideways, sloshing a bucket of water. Sherlock cut the power and hurried over to check on his Sub, but the man had merely fainted.

“Help me get him into the bedroom,” Sherlock ordered Lestrade, who didn’t bother to be wound up about his dominating attitude. He knew his place in pack, and Sherlock was quite soundly beneath him.

They carried John into the bedroom after Sherlock had removed the device from his body and Sherlock steered Lestrade back out. He handed him a suspiciously slimy sponge and pointed to the mess on the floor.

“You’ve got to be kidding…” He started, but Sherlock had already grabbed a large bowl and taken off.

Lestrade scrubbed up while Sherlock ran water in the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sherlock heading into the bathroom with a bowl, a flannel, and a small handtowel. He recognized the implements; he’d had Subs do that for him before. Good for John, he deserved a bit of pampering. Lestrade went back to his washing with more enthusiasm.

Once Sherlock returned from giving John his sponge bath he ribbed him for a bit, but Lestrade was used to it by now.

“Did you even hear the way he was screaming, Sherlock? It sounded like _pain,_ not pleasure. I thought someone was being murdered up here.”

“John is a _Sub,_ Lestrade. He’s supposed to scream: often and with enthusiasm. If not then I’m not doing my job, am I?”

“He’s supposed to scream in _pleasure_ , are you sure he’s alright?”

“Of course he’s fine. He’s in heaven, he’s so bloody thrilled. Should I be worried about Mycroft’s satisfaction if he’s not screaming properly?”

“He _does_ scream!” Lestrade hiss angrily, not wanting to wake the sleeping Sub, “Often and enthusiastically.”

“Well, thank goodness we have separate wings of the house.”

“Our dungeon is in the sub-basement.”

“Oh, cheers, that’s even better. We’ll be keeping ours here. A bit smaller than we had before, but it will work well enough.”

Lestrade sighed and shook his head before heading over to the fridge to check on the food supply like he’d told Mycroft.

“You have bottles of water?”

“Three cases in 221C.”

“Let’s bring them up. You’re smelling riper by the minute.”

“I am _not_. I just need a shower.”

“No arguments. Cases. Now,” Lestrade pointed towards the door and Sherlock slumped towards it like a petulant child.

“ _Fine_ ,” Sherlock grouched.


	5. Chapter 5

Deleted Scene from MollyVerse – Molly/OFC – Femslash

Damn it, this was supposed to be sexy, but it turned out sad. >:(  Fucking Mollyverse!!

 

 _Fucking paperpushers,_ Lestrade thought as he stomped down to the mortuary, _Fucking arrogant arsewipes. Sherlock puts more crooks away than our entire department and they want to hold off on his paycheck – his pathetically small stipend John talked them into paying him – until after I get Molly’s findings. Why? The bastards in jail with a full fucking confession and…_

Lestrade’s brain blanked as he opened the door to see Molly with her face planted between the legs of a squirming young woman. She was standing at the foot of the exam table while the cocoa and cream young woman moaned and fondled her breasts with enthusiasm. A glance above Molly’s head let him see the stranger was dickless, but the room didn’t smell of Beta, so this was another _Omega_ she was servicing!

Lestrade backed out the door, but stood outside it occasionally looking through the window in a mixture of excitement and disgust. He should be appalled. Here he was practically living celibate because he’d never met an Omega interested in him and his Beta wife wouldn’t let him touch her lately, and two beautiful Omegas were going down on each other instead of letting themselves be properly bred by an Alpha!

He was hard and aching and filled with an absolutely irrational anger. It wasn’t _fair_. He was _lonely_ and he’d do _anything_ for an Omega! Anything! If they wanted just oral, he’d manage… well… no, he probably wouldn’t. Hell, they wouldn’t, either. What about their heat?

Lestrade peered through the window again and saw that the girl had sat up and they were kissing each other passionately. Molly leaned back and a smile crossed her face that Lestrade had never seen before. She was obviously entranced. Then the second girl started making excuses when Molly pulled her hand into her own lab coat, wanting the woman to touch her breasts. She fumbled to grab her clothes and left, passing Lestrade without noticing him as he’d ducked behind the door.

When Lestrade glanced in again Molly was sitting on the exam table, sniffling and dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Lestrade’s erection and anger were gone. Molly was pack, and if the poor thing wanted other Omegas, then he wasn’t going to judge and he was going to _get over_ his own selfish longing. She needed him now.

Lestrade pushed into the mortuary, ignoring Molly’s fumbling and babbling as she hopped off the table, checked her clothes, and then started frantically searching for a file. He cut her off by silently tugging her into his arms. Molly tensed a moment, but he petted her hair and murmured gently and eventually she burst into tears and clung to him like a child. Lestrade leaned against the table her lover had been on and simply held her.

“It’s alright, love. I know. It hurts. Let it out, sweetheart. That’s it.”

“Am I completely unlovable?”

“Shut your mouth, eh?” He chided gently, “No one is unlovable, least of all not you.”

“Sherlock ignores me, every girlfriend I’ve ever had leaves me for an Alpha, I’m so _alone_.”

“You’re not alone, sweetheart. You’ve got me.”

“I haven’t _got_ anyone! I’ve got _cats_! Even Sherlock has a real person now, he’s got that Joe fellow. He brought him by again.”

“John.”

“ _Him_. I hate him!”

“You don’t, Molly. You don’t hate anyone.”

“I do! I hate him, and I hate Jean, and I hate my cats, and I hate _meeee!”_

Molly sobbed harder and Lestrade went back to rocking her gently from side to side and waiting for the deluge to stop.

_Poor thing. I guess I haven’t got it so rough after all._


	6. Chapter 6

Spoilers for [Dragon Blood Ch 14  
](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/107697.html)

Lestrade was sitting in his office going through a file on a rather baffling set of cases. There were people around the city in positions of prominence who were suddenly committing suicide right before usually happy events such as marriages or births, but they had no motive and had shown signs of fear rather than sadness right before they did themselves in. Lestrade was wondering if they were related to the Scarlet Revenge case, as it had been dubbed since no one could discern where or how the blood stained letters had appeared on the first scene since the victim had no wounds and hadn’t shown signs of having inflicted any on the murderer… if there even was a murderer. His bet was that the man with the knife through his chest had poisoned the other two, but Sherlock was convinced otherwise. 

One moment he was staring at his case fine and comparing the locations of the two ‘suicide’ cases and the next he was standing in 221B with John blinking at him innocently.

“Where are you Sherlock? You little fucker!” Lestrade shouted to the room at large.

A tiny dragon flew in over his shoulder, making him duck in alarm, and it took a moment for Lestrade to remember Sherlock could transform. Every time he’d seen him so far he had been in human form, first due to illness and then due to… Fuck knows why, but now he was clinging to John’s chest like a limpid and looking slightly contrite (for a dragon) but Lestrade wasn’t buying it.

“Listen here, wyrm!” Lestrade bellowed, crossing towards Sherlock.

Before he could take hold of the tiny lizard and throttle him John all but chucked him off and dove for Lestrade, ducking down to knock his center of balance off and taking him down to the floor with ease. They thrashed for a moment and John managed to twist him around. Next thing he knew the shorter man was sitting on his back with Lestrade’s arms pulled painfully behind him.

“John… the fuck! Get off me!” He shouted incredulously. Never had he imagined that the soft, warm looking man who let Sherlock walk all over him was such a bad ass.

“You try to touch him like that again and I’ll break your arm in seven places,” John growled into his ear, “I can promise you, you’ll never use it again no matter how fucking good your doctor is. You don’t want to push your luck with me, Lestrade. Never forget I was a soldier. I killed people. I’ve got no qualms about doing it again!”

 “You were a doctor!”

“I HAD BAD DAYS!”

Sherlock’s bare ankle appeared, proving the dragon was in fact the same amateur detective… and that he was naked again.

“That’s quite enough, I think, let him up John,” Sherlock ordered lazily.

John released Lestrade and they both stood, John looking wary and jittery as a meth head while Lestrade checked himself over for injuries. His shoulders and knees ached a bit, but he was otherwise unharmed.

“Fuck,” He complained, “I take back the cuddly jumper statement from yesterday.”

John nodded as if to say ‘well you should’ and Sherlock stepped in front of the agitated man with the clear intention of calming him.

“You really thought he was going to hurt me?”

“I was,” Lestrade insisted, though his anger was quickly dissipating now that he’d had his little outburst.

John’s entire body twitched and Lestrade flinched, but Sherlock shushed him gently and held him close.

“At ease, my beautiful soldier, at ease. I could have stopped him in an instant,” Sherlock purred, his voice gone deep and sensual.

“You were small…” John worried.

“And you know full well how very large and toothsome I can become in an instant. He wouldn’t have done anything I hadn’t let him anyway, I control him completely when necessary,” Sherlock replied, soothing John with a gentle kiss.

“Speaking of which, I was on duty when you decided to fucking dragon-nap me!” Lestrade snapped, recalling his fury from earlier.

Lestrade gaped as Sherlock’s gentle kiss turned into a rather passionate snog right before his eyes. Sherlock was pumping his hips forward shamelessly and John moaned hungrily and sank down to his knees with the clear intention of _sucking off_ the dragon-man right then and there! Lestrade spun on his heels just as Sherlock started thrusting into the man’s willing mouth.

_The fuck is with these two?_

< _Not so fast… >_

Lestrade found himself standing in the kitchen again while John moaned and enthusiastically sucked Sherlock’s cock.

“Fucking hell, Sherlock, I don’t want to watch you bugger him!”

“I’m not done with you yet,” Sherlock stated with far too much composure for someone getting deep throated. John must have agreed because he did something that caused the man to cry out: “Oh, gods, I didn’t mean like that. I don’t need him like that. Oh, fuck that’s good!”

“I didn’t even like men before I met you now I’m lusting after your brother and watching you get sucked off. Fucking hell,” Lestrade complained.

Sherlock’s hips stilled.

“Well _that’s_ a mood killer,” Sherlock growled, “Go into the living room and desist this repulsive talk of my brother.”

Lestrade stomped off and threw himself down on the sofa, trying very hard to ignore his growing erection. He’d been used to regular sex with Cheryl… who was apparently used to even more regular sex with Gregson. Now he was being subjected to the sound of Sherlock getting what was apparently the best blowjob of his life. The really sick part was that Lestrade couldn’t seem to stop _listening_.

John moaned hungrily, his voice deepened by his overflowing mouthful.

Sherlock panted for a few seconds, then gasped as though surprised.

There was a few seconds of sloppy sounds, saliva and slurping, the shifting of knees on the floor, the creak of the floorboards.

Sherlock’s breathing continued to be erratic and eager, then he gasped and there was a sudden stillness and silence. Lestrade thought for a moment they’d finished, especially when he heard Sherlock sigh, then Sherlock began to gasp and let out small needy whimpers. His distress was clearly building and Lestrade swallowed hard as Sherlock’s deep baritone called out, ragged with lust and need.

“John… please…”

Then Sherlock was crying out, three sudden shouts of shocked excitement. Lestrade’s mind graphically supplied what might have happened – anything from a proper prod to the prostate to a very shocking bit of hard BDSM. Between Sherlock’s cries the sounds of enthusiastic sucking had been replaced with the slap of flesh on flesh; if they hadn’t changed positions that was Sherlock’s bollocks slapping John’s chin which meant the same man who’d had him pinned earlier was deepthroating the hell out of Sherlock.

Lestrade’s mouth went dry and Sherlock groaned loud and long while John made enthusiastic appreciative noises.

_There’s no way dragon cum tastes that good._

A soft slam, like a hand hitting a countertop, and Sherlock’s ragged voice reached Lestrade’s ears.

“That was brilliant.”

“That’s my line,” John chuckled.

Lestrade practically leaned forward to listen for more, convinced he could hear their tongues gliding together… were they kissing?

A knock at the door caused both lovers to groan and Lestrade sat back in a mixture of amusement and frustration.

“Door’s open! Second floor!” Sherlock called, then walked around and flopped into his chair. John mimicked him, but while Sherlock was flushed and relaxed John was flustered and tense. So he hadn’t got off, then.

_Good. You’re not the only one._


	7. Chapter 7

Spoilers for

[The Mage's Slave 12](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/28621.html)

News had already circulated around the palace that Prince Sherlock the Warlock and his slave-turned-Freeman/Lord had married and were apparently in involved in a rather shocking relationship. Apparently John had kneeled and behaved like a slave throughout the wedding, which had been disgracefully short and uninvolved. Rumors were abundant, not the least of which was that Prince Sherlock had discovered a way to impregnate the poor Lord Watson- as legend has it Merlin had when Guinevere was proven barren- and they were marrying quickly to save face.

So when Lestrade received sudden orders that he was to be a part of Sherlock’s new little fiefdom and to report to him, he had gone to the chambers with a sense of discomfort and foreboding. He found the doors shut and the guards with orders to keep anyone out who wasn’t on death’s door. He leaned against the wall opposite the doors to wait since he’d already been relieved of his palace duties.

_How could My do this to me? I thought we’d finally reached an understanding._

The screaming that reached his ears then was loud enough to penetrate through the thick oaken doors of the chamber. Immediately visualizing one of them killing the other, or them both being attacked through some kind of sorcery, Lestrade threw open the doors and bolted to the bed where the screaming was emanating from.

When he threw the bed curtains back the last thing he expected was something sexual; he especially didn’t expect to see controlling Sherlock face down and arse up being buggered by John. John’s head was thrown back in obvious passion and Sherlock was panting into the damp bedding. The room smelled of sex and sweat. Lestrade shut the curtains quickly and fled the room, slamming the door behind him. He’d just have to hope Sherlock was merciful.

He’d also have to find some way to get an heir for the throne since two of the former king’s sons were apparently violently homosexual bottoms and the third a literal boar. Perhaps the rumor about John being pregnant would prove true.


	8. Chapter 8

Dear Readers:

This does not affect those of you following me on facebook. Numerous people have reliably informed me that AO3, based on it’s lack of ability to turn off all comments, is a site meant to mete out judgment on the worth of fanfiction. Since I do not enjoy such criticisms and have not found value in them- I find following the advice tends to damage my stories more than improve them with the exception of invaluable grammar corrections- I will no longer be posting on AO3. I will finish up most of the stories that remain unfinished, with the exception of a few that will be noted, and move on to posting only amongst friends who are able to see me as more than a source of mindless entertainment… usually at my expense.

Sincerely,  
Vinny Meoblinn

 

Dear Critics:

I realize that most of you were honestly trying to improve my stories, but I’m afraid in most cases your advice missed the mark. While such helpful corrections such as grammar, spelling, and the occasional missed fact were invaluable to me, I’m afraid I really must draw the line at character and plot manipulation. I found that the demands made on me by well meaning readers tended to force happy endings where none fit, forced miserable endings when criticism brought my love of a story to an end, and generally forced me to alter my stories to the whim of others. In short, I am tired of having my stories **raped**. Since it seems redundant to ask those intent on doing so to include a non-con warning at the top off their comments- and honestly most complaints could have been avoided if people had _actually read the author notes_ \- leaving AO3 seems to me to be the best option. As noted above, while I will not delete my stories, I _will_ post my stories in private from now on to avoid disgusting those of you who prefer to write your fanfiction stories vicariously through another author, and were disappointed by my lack of participation.

Vincent Meoblinn

 

Stories that will be completed on AO3:

Dragon Blood 2.0  
Discipline Me  
Plague  
Perfect Match (Plot only)  
To Breed an Omega  


Stories that will NOT be completed on AO3:

Sherlock Skellington  
Then Lestrade Walked In…  
Sentience Pt 2 (Life and 3nergy to be posted privately only)  
The Futanari Club  
Rupert  
Ficlets  
Unstarted Prompts  



End file.
